


Show the World the Thunder

by Flames_and_Jade



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babies, Daddy!Pete, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Family moments, Fluff, M/M, Vignette, cuteness, family cuteness, low key smut, lunch dates but not really, papa!Patrick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8531953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade
Summary: "Patrick looked up at Pete, who was still peeking uncertainly through the doorway, and got up, walking towards him. Pete held out his arms too stiffly, and gathered the surprisingly heavy weight of the baby into his hands and chest, and he looked down at that small smooth face and felt his heart break into a million pieces and get put back together again, only better than before, because now here they all are, complete; and as Patrick kissed the baby's cheek and then pressed his mouth against Pete's jaw, Pete greeted their son."Hello, Devlin," he said as the baby stretched comfortably in his arms. "Hello, bud." - "Afternoon Delight" by MegyalA series of vignettes in Megyal's lovely sandbox. OR some adorable moments in the life of Pete and Patrick from the night they bring home their son, through his first birthday.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Afternoon Delight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/291253) by [megyal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal). 



> Hey guys! So I wanted to write some domestic Pete/Patrick. One of my VERY favorite stories ever is the amazing @megyals story [Afternoon Delight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/291253/chapters/465926), and she was kind enough to let me play a bit in her sandbox. You don't *have* to read it to understand this...but seriously, I don't know why you wouldn't want to go read it...it's incredible!!!!!
> 
> Big thanks to @megyal for letting me play =) Hope you enjoy!

 

DAY ONE

The first night, Pete had stood over the crib and patted Devlin’s back until he fell asleep, and it had taken all of Patrick’s skills of persuasion to convince him to get some sleep himself. But Patrick had woken up a few hours later to find the bed empty, and worry had clutched his heart. _Was this too much, is Pete hiding somewhere, is he outside walking with his headphones on trying to drown out the noise—_ he scrambled out of bed, poking his head in the baby’s room since it was right next to theirs…

 

Pete was sitting in the rocking chair his mom had given them, holding his son and singing. Devlin was awake, but quickly falling back to sleep, eyes opening and then falling shut slowly before opening them again. Moonlight streamed through the window, giving the room an eerie glow that still managed to be peaceful. Pete had never claimed to be a singer—he was totally unashamed by the fact that he could barely hold a note on a good day. But this…Patrick hadn’t ever heard him like this. He was singing Green Day…but it was low and soft and comforting, something just for his son, to soothe his baby to sleep.

 

Stepping softly, Patrick came to kneel next to the chair and rested his head on Pete’s arm, joining him in his contemplation of their son, who had finally surrendered to sleep. Perfect lips, tiny button nose, long lashes that fanned over his cheeks, a shock of black hair that twisted into silky ringlets. He didn’t really notice when Pete stopped singing, until he realized that he was saying something.

 

“—Sorry, ‘Trick…I just…I didn’t want him to be alone. I needed to…” Pete trailed off and Patrick nodded against his arm. 

 

“I know. C’mere.” A look of panic flitted across Pete’s eyes, and Patrick shook his head fondly. “No, bring him too.” 

 

He stood, grimacing at the ache in his knees from kneeling for so long, and headed back to their bedroom after pulling Devlin’s quilt from the crib. Crawling back in, he took the extra pillows that they usually just stacked on the bench and made a little nest in the middle of the bed. Pete sat down and Patrick patted it, motioning for him to lay the sleeping baby into it. 

 

A moment later, they were all tucked in—Devlin oblivious to the change in his sleeping arrangements with them both bracketing him. Pete reached out and settled a hand on his tiny belly, and Patrick settled his hand next to it, their fingers just touching. He looked at his husband over the sleeping form of their baby, and felt his heart flutter with familiar butterflies as he thought about how insanely lucky he was.

 

“I’ll go get one of those little bassinets tomorrow, so he can sleep with us.” The words were just a whisper, but Pete’s answering smile was more brilliant than a sunrise. 

 

 

FOUR MONTHS

 

Pete came home from work to a silent house that looked like a tornado had torn through it. He had tried to convince Patrick that he could work from home, that he didn’t _really_ need to go to the board meeting…but he had been overruled by the stubborn half of their relationship. Patrick had thrown his snotty tissues at him and huffed that _he was just fine, it’s just a damn cold, nothing that’s going to kill us, so get out and go to work!_ Pete had retreated, but only after telling him for the millionth time that he’d have his phone on and to text if he needed anything.

 

Unsurprisingly, Patrick had been radio silent for the rest of the day…and now he knew why. Setting his bag down by the front door, he slipped his shoes off and padded past the kitchen—noting the pile of dirty dishes and the can of formula that had spilled all over the counter and onto the floor. He walked into the living room and…well, the only thing he could do was lean against the archway and thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster and whatever other gods were up there that this was his life.

 

A half-chewed frozen bagel, wet washcloths, toys, crumpled tissues and a bottle of baby tylenol were scattered on the ground. The television was on and currently blaring Bubble Guppies in… _Spanish?_ But the thing that made Pete’s heart feel like it was simultaneously melting and bubbling out of his chest was the scene on the couch. Patrick was sprawled on his back, hair mussed and glasses askew on his face, fast asleep. His shirt was unbuttoned, and Devlin lay on his chest, skin to skin, head nuzzled under Patrick’s chin with his father's left hand resting on his small back, protecting and holding him close. Father and son both were making soft whistling noises in their sleep, mouths open slightly but peace on their faces. It was the most adorable thing Pete had ever seen...so he dug out his phone to take a quick picture. Yes, Patrick would kill him...but hey. He liked to live dangerously.

 

Kneeling down by Patrick’s head, Pete gently carded his hair through his fingers, fine strands slipping through like silk. He couldn’t resist and dipped his head down to rest on Patrick’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck and bringing him face to face with his son. They smelled like formula and sweat and _home_. 

 

Patrick stirred, and Pete looked up. “Hey, beautiful.” Patrick’s only response was to huff out a grumbling breath, and bring his other hand up to rest on Pete’s head. They stayed there for a long moment, and Pete was content to feel the heavy pressure of Patrick’s hand, feel the tiny breaths that whistled from Devlin’s mouth tickle his face and the steady rise and fall of Patrick’s chest. But then Patrick shifted gently, and Pete sat up.

 

“Hey. You’re home early?” 

 

Pete shook his head. “Actually I’m home late, you guys fell asleep. Rough day?” 

 

Patrick flailed his hand at the tissue box above his head. Pete grabbed one and gave it to him, and waited while he wiped his nose. “It was…exciting. I’ve just had a crazy headache all day from the cold, and I couldn’t—everything seemed to want to do the opposite of what I needed it to do.” He rubbed Devlin’s back affectionately. “And little man just wanted to be held. I figured, since he got me like this, we may as well just be sick together.” He squinted red eyes at Pete. “Crap, what time is it? He’s due for another dose of Tylenol at five.” 

 

“Five fifteen.” Pete supplied, and reached for the bottle lying by his knee. “It seems like a shame to wake him up, though.” 

 

Shaking his head, Patrick sat up gently, cradling the four-month-old tenderly and stroking the downy hairs on his head. “Yeah…but my mom said it’s important to keep his medicine on a schedule. It’ll help him get better faster.” He began to murmur softly to the baby— _sweetheart, look Daddy’s home, he has medicine for you, brave boy, can you wake up for Papa, please?”_

 

Like magic, Devlin opened his eyes to the sound of his voice, looking around with the chronic confusion of the very young. He yawned ponderously, and Pete took that opportunity to slide the dropper, laden with sticky orange medicine, into his tiny mouth. Devlin looked at him contemplatively as he sucked it out, but then scrunched his face together and nuzzled back into Patrick. With a rueful smile, Patrick took the dropper from Pete and coaxed it back into the baby’s mouth, cooing and encouraging in that soft voice that seemed to make both father and son melt when he used it on them. Soon enough, the medicine was gone and he was starting to fuss. 

 

“I’ll go make him his bottle.” Pete rose and headed into the kitchen. While the water heated, he changed quickly into a pair of sweatpants and an old tank-top—no use staying in work clothes when it was clear that it was going to be a night-in at the Wentz house. Mixing the formula into the warm water, Pete carried it back to the living room, testing it on the back of his hand to make sure it was the right temperature. Patrick was watching him with a small smile on his face. He sat down next to Patrick, handing him the bottle before wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. 

 

“Perfect.” He sighed out, completely happy…he was holding the love of his life, and the love of his life was holding their son. His whole world fit on the couch, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I’m sorry you got sick.” 

 

Patrick just hummed against him as he coaxed Devlin to suck from the bottle, murmuring encouragements and making the most endearingly dorky faces imaginable. “It’s not the end of the world. Besides…it’s not like little man here didn’t deserve kisses.” Finally, Devlin had latched onto the bottle and was sucking from it earnestly, as though he had forgotten food existed and only just now realized it again. Patrick sighed and laid his head on Pete’s shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re home with us.” 

 

Something squeezed Pete’s heart like a vice, and he felt the dumbest answers flit through his head…but he chose the one that seemed _right._

 

“All I’ve ever wanted is right here.”

 

 

FIVE MONTHS

 

Happy baby music was blaring over the speakers in the living room, cycling through _head and shoulders, the wheels on the bus, bump on the log…_ Patrick thought for what seemed like the hundredth time since they adopted that maybe they should come up with some sort of baby music that wasn’t just full of asinine rhythms and stupid phrases. _It’d be a good side project,_ he thought as he washed the dishes. 

 

But Devlin loved it. It had gotten to the point that when either of them pulled out the brightly colored CD’s, he would giggle and clap, singing nonsense words. Pete, not surprisingly, didn’t care that the music was monotonous, that it was the catchy type that got stuck in your head super easy. If it made Devlin happy, Pete was happy. 

 

Wiping the counters down—crumbs _everywhere_ because apparently Pete was incapable of making his daily morning toast without flinging crumbs over every flat surface in the kitchen—Patrick couldn’t help but be a little bit sappy. The sun was shining, the birds were singing…and he couldn’t be happier. 

 

It had been five months since they had held Devlin Marcus Wentz for the first time. Five of the best months of their lives, and while they’d barely slept for the first three, neither of them had cared. Watching Devlin grow and blossom, becoming such an _individual…_ it was amazing. His personality had been apparent quickly—he was going to be a feisty one. Pete had teased that Devlin certainly took after Patrick in temperament. But there was nothing more amazing then seeing the way the baby would calm around his Papa, the way Patrick could soothe him like nothing else could. Pete had called him the “baby whisperer,” but the awed look of love in Pete’s eyes as Devlin would sigh contentedly in his arms was something Patrick would treasure forever. 

 

Putting away the broom and dustpan, he surveyed the kitchen and grinned. _Finally clean._ Dinner was simmering in the crockpot—Pete had teased him when he bought a crockpot as part of their baby-prep shopping, but had apologized extensively when he tried Patrick’s pot roast for the first time. _Nothing else to do_. He turned the light off, and headed towards the music and wonderful chaos in the living room. 

 

Pete was laying on the ground, the quilt Patrick’s mom had made spread out like a picnic blanket. Toys were scattered around, and Devlin was sitting propped up on a small throne of throw pillows. Pete was facing him, making a ridiculous assortment of silly faces to which Devlin was responding with the most adorable baby laughs in the world. Giggles, belly laughs, shrieks of joy and cooing sounds…and Pete was eating them up. 

 

He had been a bit concerned about how Pete would adjust to a baby. Patrick hadn’t doubted his ability for a minute, but he hadn’t been sure about some of the other parts. Like how Pete would feel about sharing Patrick, about the decrease in their time alone together, about the irrationality and instability a baby could bring. All his worries had been totally unfounded…and if he was being honest, he always knew they had been. 

 

Pete was one of the most loving people he’d ever met, but more than that, he loved _completely._ There was nothing Pete did halfway—whether it was pursuing Patrick’s heart, starting a company, playing music—he did it with 100% of himself. The same way he was a father. The first time Pete had held Devlin…Patrick had seen it on his face. It was a totally new expression, but also infinitely familiar. He had seen snatches of it before—the first time they had made love, and afterwords Pete had looked at him with eyes full of love and awe and contentment. He had seen part of it when Pete bit into Deek’s pizza for the first time and then declared it _the eighth wonder of the world_ and eaten the whole damn pie. He had seen a piece of it when Patrick said _yes,_ and when Joe had told them that Marie was pregnant. But Pete’s face when he held his son for the first time…it had been all that and more. It had been indescribable. 

 

But like everything else in his life, Pete had jumped into to being a father with both feet…and Devlin _loved_ him. His little face would light up every time Pete walked into the room, he laughed the hardest at Pete’s faces, and the two of them would play for _hours_ , lost in their own little world of fun. 

 

Sitting down next to the blanket, Patrick grinned at his two favorite people. Of course, Pete had been so absorbed in his son he hadn’t noticed anything else until his husband was right next to him…but that was typical. 

 

“Oh my gosh, babe, watch this!” Pete scooted forward until their noses were almost touching. He blew softly, making the little baby ringlets tremble and Devlin’s features scrunched into a shocked expression while the air whistled softly across his face. As soon as Pete stopped, he erupted in adorable squeaks, and leaned forward to press his open mouth over Pete’s lips in a slobbery baby kiss. 

 

Pete positively _glowed_ with happiness. “He fucking kissed me babe! Isn’t that the coolest thing ever!” He nuzzled into Devlin’s belly, exclaiming praises and endearments and eliciting more giggles as the baby swatted his head. 

 

Unburrowing from the baby’s stomach, Pete reached over and tugged Patrick down to lay on the quilt with him. He pulled off Patrick’s hat and deposited on Devlin’s head, eliciting a round of chuckles as the fedora settled onto the baby’s shoulders. Rolling Patrick onto his back, Pete crawled on top of him and kissed him—deep and loving and perfect. When he pulled away, Patrick could feel a flush working its way across his cheeks, and by the way Pete was looking at him, he had noticed. 

 

“Look at that…didn’t even need to blow on your face to get kisses. Lucky me.” He leaned in and nipped at Patrick’s neck playfully, making him growl and pull Pete back for another kiss, this one searingly hot and hungry. An inquisitive squeak broke the moment as both looked up to see Devlin chewing contentedly on the brim of Patrick’s fedora. 

 

“Dude, that’s my favorite one.” There was no trace of frustration in Patrick’s voice, and Pete grinned.

 

“Baby slobber is all the rage now, babe. But hey…I’ll make it up to you, promise. ‘Cause you’re all mine when mini-man goes to bed.” 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two more snippets of Pete and Patrick's life with Devlin <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to @shattered_mirrors_and_lace for cheerleading and helping me block this and the following chapters out, and of course gigantic thanks to @megyal for letting me play around in your sandbox! <3

 

SIX MONTHS

 

The elevator reached the seventh floor with a _ding_ and the doors slid open with ponderous grace. Pete’s secretary looked up and saw Mr. Stump— _no, the Other Mr. Wentz—_ she corrected herself _—_ step out. Holding the cutest diaper bag and a baby carrier. 

 

Nicole came running in, how she had made it across the foyer that fast was anybody’s guess, but she was now kneeling in front of the carrier. 

 

“Oh my gosh, can I see him, please??” Patrick grinned and set it down, pulling the blue blanket back and revealing the most beautiful baby. Nicole was in a fit and well…one doesn’t just sit at a desk and not see your boss’s baby!

 

Soon both women were cooing over his curly hair and tiny fingers and Patrick was soaking it up like The Proudest Father In The World. Pete, of course, chose that moment to come out of his office. He met Patrick’s eyes over the giggling mass of secretary and grinned. He swept forward and slipped the diaper bag from Patrick’s shoulder before dipping him down and kissing him soundly. The two women’s chatter abruptly stopped and turned into a in-sync chorus of “awwwwhhh” which made Patrick’s cheeks even pinker when Pete stood him back up. Pete only grinned wider at his husband’s obvious discomfort, and reached forward to pick up the baby carrier. 

 

“Excuse me ladies…we’re going to go have lunch.” He ushered Patrick into his office, and just before the door closed, he poked his head back out. “Please see that we’re not disturbed?”

 

~//~

 

“Seriously, Pete, did you have to pull the whole Disney princess routine in front of the freakin’ secretaries??” Pete found it adorable that Patrick refused to use _actual_ cuss words in front of the baby. He was still pink-cheeked, and Pete couldn’t help that making him mad was seriously one of his favorite things to do. _Especially_ when Patrick punished him for it. 

 

But instead Patrick just huffed and turned to where Pete had set down the baby carrier. He knelt down and unbuckled Devlin, pulling him out and passing him wordlessly to Pete, who was already talking a blue streak to his son and holding out grabby hands. 

 

“Oh my gosh, don’t you look so handsome today, little man! All dressed up to come see daddy, aren’t you just the cutest thing ever! You should come to my board meetings with me, I’ll get you a tuxedo onesie, wouldn’t that be great?! You could help me pick out which hoodies we’re going to do for fall and which ones to wait for the winter line, and when people start getting stupid, we could throw your dirty diapers at them, wouldn’t that be—“ Abruptly Pete stopped as he saw Patrick sitting on his couch, calmly eating… _a salad?_ “Umm…babe, I thought you said you were bringing me _lunch_.” 

 

Patrick nodded, stuffing another forkful into his mouth, and pointed at the glass container settled on the couch next to Devlin’s bottle. 

 

Turning up his nose—knowing full well it made him look like a pouty five year old—Pete picked up the bottle and started to feed his squirming son. “Umm…since when do we eat _salad_ for lunch?” 

 

Giving him a truly expressive eye roll, Patrick undid the lid so Pete could see inside. “I felt like something healthy. Don’t worry, I put enough toppings on it you won’t even know there’s lettuce in there. It’s got mandarin oranges, bacon, apples, walnuts, some of those crispy asian noodle things you like, feta cheese…” He took another bite. “It’s _good_ , Peter Panda.” 

 

Rolling his eyes, Pete resumed his attention on Devlin. “Dude, can you believe your Papa thought he could disguise bunny food with all those things? I mean, bacon is basically the greatest thing ever, but come on, it’s _lettuce._ Don’t worry…I’ll make sure he doesn’t like feed you peas and shit like that when we start giving you _real food_ next week! _”_

 

 _“_ You know babies can’t eat dairy until they’re at least a year old, right? That means pizza is not going to be his first solid food.” Patrick’s voice cut into his ramblings, and Pete scowled.

 

“I _knew_ letting you read those baby books was a bad idea.” 

 

Patrick only rolled his eyes affectionately and resumed eating his salad. They talked about the new fall line, and Pete groused about the art department’s inability to actually do anything _on time_ , hence why he was in the current hoodie crisis. Patrick nodded, giving his input when Pete showed him the designs that he had gotten, disregarding a few that he thought were too ostentatious or overdone, and Pete had done a stupid happy dance because they agreed. 

 

Eventually, Devlin had finished the bottle and Pete had burped him gently, not even caring that he got a tiny bit of baby spit-up on his shoulder for his efforts. He had fallen fast asleep curled against Pete’s chest as he shuffled through the artwork one handed, digging out some discarded pieces from last season to show Patrick. But then…something in his mind clicked over. 

 

_Patrick._

 

_Pale skin that contrasted so beautifully with his dark grey button up. Strawberry-blonde hair that had gotten long, and it fell into his eyes in the most alluring way. Blue-green eyes that looked at him with amusement and happiness and love. Full, pink lips that were parted just the tiniest bit as he looked up at Pete expectantly. Slim, elegant fingers wrapped around the open glass container that held his lunch._

 

“Pete? You hungry?” 

 

_Lunch._

 

Seriously. His life was the fucking best. 

 

Giving his husband a grin he hoped didn’t totally betray his intentions, Pete settled Devlin into his carseat and buckled him securely. He took the extra blanket from the diaper bag and draped it over the canopy, hiding him from view and stood. Patrick lifted an eyebrow at him with delicate grace, questioning without pushing.

 

In an instant, Pete was on the couch, straddling Patrick’s lap and taking the salad from him. With a coy smile, he placed it on the floor and tipped his husband’s chin up, bringing those beautiful eyes up to meet his own. He bent and pressed his mouth softly against Patrick’s, whispering and relishing the way their lips brushed around the syllables. 

 

“Since you brought me weird food…you’re going to have to feed me some other way, ‘Trick.” 

 

“Mmmhh—“ Patrick hummed against his mouth, tongue darting out and licking at his lips, deepening the kiss. Pete moaned softly, grinding down and smiling as Patrick bucked up against him, unconsciously trying to get closer. 

 

But then there was a soft huffing sound and both of them froze, eyes darting to Devlin’s carseat. He murmured softly in his sleep, before falling silent again and they both cracked up. Patrick pressed another kiss to Pete’s lips—quick and smacking, before looking up at him from beneath lower lashes. “Let’s not traumatize him quite yet, alright?” 

 

 

SEVEN MONTHS

 

Pete dropped into the chair and set his plate down on the table with a clatter that made Devlin look over at him with startled eyes. Patrick glared at him, spoon hovering in front of the baby’s face.

 

“Can you _please_ not be distracting when I’m trying to get him to eat?” 

 

“Would you want to eat that shit, babe? Like seriously, no wonder he’s not like chowing down.” He stuck the first piece of pizza into his mouth, chewing and making rapturous faces at Devlin, who started giggling and stuffed his fingers in his mouth. 

 

“Sweetheart, your fingers aren’t going to make you grow up big and strong! Can you take a bite of this for Papa, please?” Patrick’s voice was soft, calming, and Devlin turned big hazel eyes to him and opened his mouth obediently to receive the spoonful of food…before promptly spitting it back out. 

 

Pete crowed triumphantly, “Told you!” He laughed at the poisonous look Patrick shot him. 

 

“Fine. You feed him, smart guy.” 

 

Shrugging, Pete scooted his plate over and traded seats with a huffing and grumpy Patrick, taking the little container of food. “Hey buddy!” He smiled at his son brightly as he sat. “You gonna eat like a champ for your daddy?” Devlin squealed and clapped his hands, giving Pete a grin that scrunched his nose up adorably and made Pete’s heart melt. Patrick settled his own plate down—leftover lasagna—and handed Pete a box of cheerios. 

 

“Here, he might like some of these.” 

 

Pete took the box and shook some out onto the tray of Devlin’s high chair. He stared at them with wide baby eyes, before reaching out to gingerly pick one up. Pete did the same, putting it in his mouth and making appreciative noises, which made Devlin smile. He slowly put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly. Pete praised him and took another bite of his pizza, before picking up a cheerio and putting it on his nose. Devlin laughed a high-pitched baby giggle as Pete brought his face close to him so the baby could snatch the cheerio off his nose. 

 

“Did you see that, babe?! He has the motor skills of a kickass bass player!” Pete gave Devlin a smacking kiss on the cheek. 

 

Patrick smiled as he cut up another bite of Lasagna. “Can you get him to eat some of his food, please?” 

 

Picking up the container, Pete squinted at the label. “Harvest Medley? What the fuck does that even mean?” Patrick only shook his head with an exasperated smile as Pete turned back to Devlin. “Alright bud, can you please have some of this for me? Cause if you don’t, your Papa might never stop being mad at me and I’ll _never_ get to have sex ever again?” 

 

“ _PETE!!!!”_ Patrick looked aghast, but Pete merely leered at him salaciously before waving a dismissive hand. 

 

“He’s seven months old, ‘Trick. He has no idea what I just said.” 

 

“Still…” Patrick was flushed bright red, which Pete found endearing. He played the “airplane” game with Devlin for a while, making flying noises that got more and more far-fetched with each bite. By the sixth bite, the “plane” sounded like a cross between a TIE-Fighter and a supersonic bomber…but even with such inspired sound effects, Devlin wasn’t interested in food anymore. Pete glared at the spoon like it was ruining everything and gave a small shrug before “airplaning” it into his own mouth. 

 

“OH MY GOD, PATRICK.” He ran to the sink and spat it out. “Have you tried that?! It seriously tastes like dog food.” Moving to the cupboard, he looked at the selection of baby food jars and started to rant in earnest. “Chicken and rice puree? That sounds awful. Beef and Beef Gravy? Cause why not put _more_ beef on the beef cause you know, beef isn’t _beefy_ enough on its own? Yeah, that sounds fucking appetizing…and _Meatloaf?_ Are you kidding me? Cause normal meatloaf is _so_ delicious to start with…” He trailed off, before plucking a jar triumphantly from the shelf and coming back to the table with a new spoon. The lid came off with a _pop!_ and he grinned at Devlin. 

 

“Here, kiddo, let’s eat some of this. At least strawberry-banana sounds like actual _food_ …”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daycare blues and some frickle-frackle!!! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! So I know it's been forever since I updated this....my goal is to get it to a year in the life of little Devlin! It just wasn't where my brain was for a while, but I re-read my draft and got super pumped...and here you go! It's not beta'd except by my swiss-cheese mind, so I hope it's not too riddled with mistakes! But I hope you enjoy =)

 

_“Trick, I’m pretty sure that you’ve broken Google.” Pete was smirking at him as he plopped down on the bed from resetting the internet router. Patrick gave him a look and resumed reading through the pamphlets that were scattered all over the comforter._

 

_“I just want to make sure it’s the right one, is all.”_

 

_“What about that Adventure Time one? That one looked super cool.”_

 

_Patrick shook his head. “No, the child-to-caregiver ratio there is too high. I don’t want Devlin to just be another face, I need to know that someone is going to be paying attention to him.”_

 

_Shrugging, Pete started playing Goat Simulator on his phone. It had taken him a solid week of sweet-talking Patrick to convince him that it was good for babies to go to daycare, for socialization and immune-system development. He had even asked Andy to help him, and had dropped a stack of scholarly articles (at least, Andy had assured him they were reputable) on Patrick’s lap to back him up. Of course, Patrick read all of them—highlighted sections, even—and had reluctantly agreed to put Devlin in daycare for four hours a day._

 

_But that had led to Patrick doing endless research on every daycare center within a 25 mile radius of their house…and Pete knew that until he was 140% sure that the daycare they picked for Devlin to attend met every one of his exacting specifications, Patrick wouldn’t be doing anything else._

 

_Crawling under the covers, Pete burrowed into Patrick’s side and felt sleep begin to tug at him to the click-clack of his fingers on the keys._

 

~//~

 

It was so _quiet_. 

 

Patrick had told himself that he _would not cry_ when he stepped into the entryway. Seriously, Devlin was just four miles away, surrounded by his new best friends, a small army of certified caregivers and happy as a pig in mud.  His phone buzzed—Pete checking up on him for the sixth time since they dropped off Devlin—and he replied _I’m fine. Just got home._

 

He took a deep breath and shucked off his shoes before going into the kitchen for a glass of water. _He’s fine, idiot. He’s happy, they have your phone number, they’ll call you if anything goes wrong, this is good for him._

 

Turning from the window, he headed upstairs, stepping quietly out of habit…like Devlin was just upstairs taking a nap. Resolutely he kept his eyes forward and didn’t look at the baby’s room as he walked down the hall and settled himself into his studio. Opening his MacBook, he tried to work…

 

 _Devlin._  

 

With a sigh, Patrick picked up his computer and left the studio…going to the one place he wanted to be. 

 

~//~

 

Pushing the door open, Pete saw him and he let out a small sigh… _this_ is what he had been concerned about, _this_ is why he told his secretary that he was going to be taking the rest of the afternoon to work “off-site.” 

 

Patrick was sitting in the rocking chair, Devlin’s crib quilt spread over his lap. His back was to the door, but Pete could hear him working away on his computer. He was humming absently with his big headphones on, little snatches of something that sounded familiar but also out-of-place. 

 

He moved to the chair and knelt down beside it. Patrick started a little, but then pulled off his headphones with a small smile. 

 

“Babe, what are you doing here?”

 

Pete looked down, suddenly unsure of how exactly to tell Patrick what had made him do this. 

 

“I was worried about you. Worried you’d be okay without him, so I figured…I’d come home for lunch. Like I used to, for you.” 

 

The look in Patrick’s eyes was indescribable—mingled sorrow from missing Devlin, love for Pete, and the endless amazement that always seemed to hover there when Pete did something that was _almost_ too over the top…but not quite. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

Pete nuzzled at his shoulder, and then looked at his computer. “Whatcha workin’ on?” 

 

So Patrick told him about his idea, about making kids CD’s that had actual _good_ music on them…just adding in more kid-friendly rhythms. He played him a sample he had made of Green Day’s “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” and Pete grinned. 

 

“I think Clandestine Industries might have to open a new department.” He gave Patrick a contemplative look. “I may have to make you a section head after all.”

 

Patrick rolled his eyes at the well-used line that Pete loved, and that usually never failed to make him grouse. But Pete didn’t push it, didn’t tease or poke fun like normal. Looking at the little clock at the bottom right of Patrick’s laptop, he did some mental calculations. _Just enough time_ , he thought and moved upwards, pressing his mouth to Patrick’s.

 

“Come to bed with me. Please.” He murmured the words against his lips, voice was low, tender…with none of its normal lust. He knew that wasn’t what Patrick needed. Not today. 

 

The look Patrick gave him when he pulled away was long, appraising…unsure. He could see the way his throat worked a bit as he swallowed, the tension in his shoulders, the sadness in his eyes. For a split second, Pete regretted pushing Patrick to put Devlin in daycare, wanted to say _screw it, let’s go get him right now and run away to a cabin in the forest and eat berries and never be apart._ But he knew that wasn’t the answer, so he whispered the only answer he knew, the only thing he _knew_ with complete certainty he could do, if Patrick would let him. 

 

“Let me make you feel good.” 

 

He gave Pete a doubtful look, eyes full of downy-soft fondness as he let Pete pull him up.

 

“Babe, I…”

 

“Shhhhh.” Pete lifted his fingers to brush gently against Patrick’s as he pulled him into a tight hug. “I know. I know you’re head’s somewhere else. Let me try to distract you, just for a little while, okay?” They left the nursery, Pete’s hand never leaving Patrick’s, until he shut the door behind them and wrapped his arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “All you have to do is let me.”

 

Hesitantly, Patrick let out a sigh. Pete’s hands were on his belt, dropping his pants to the floor as they moved backward, and then his hands were in his hair, kissing him _like he meant it._ It was heat and it was light and it was love and it was devotion. 

 

A flurry of hands and shirts and buttons and wriggling later, and Patrick was on his back with his head on the pillows and Pete stretched out over him like a blanket. He kissed him deeply, tongues and teeth and lips and passion, but it wasn’t hot and heavy, it was devotion that stretched deeper than the sands of the ocean. 

 

Pete untangled his fingers into Patrick’s hair and then slipped away, caressing him as he moved lower, pressing soft kisses to his neck that made Patrick’s breath rumble in his throat. He chased the sound, kissing and licking down lower, hands smoothing and soothing, painting him in feather-light touches that made him feel like he was an ember glowing in a bed of ash, ready to be stoked to life. Pete’s hands continued their wandering trek over his body, and his eyes flicked up to meet his husband’s. 

 

“You’re so beautiful.” He buried his face in Patrick’s chest, licking at a nipple and making him hiss as he bit it gently. Moving lower, he feathered kisses around his belly, hands soothing and sure as he nuzzled close. “I just want to touch you forever.” Running his hands up Patrick’s sides, he rained tiny bites—soft and playful—up his side to work up to his shoulder. “I want to worship this gorgeous body.” He ran his hands down Patrick’s arms, smiling at the gooseflesh that rose in the wake of his touch, and laced their hands together. “And make love to this incredible man.” Bringing them up to his face, he kissed the back of one hand, then the other. Patrick was looking at him, blushing from the praise but his eyes were aglow. 

 

“You’re a sap, you know that?” 

 

Pete released his hands to cup Patrick’s face. “Yep. And you love it.” He pressed their lips together, long and warm with just a hint of teeth that made Patrick groan and buck up against him. Pete didn’t break it, but just settled his weight more firmly on Patrick’s hips so they could grind together, their cocks brushing and sending sparks down his back. 

 

In a whisper of movement, Patrick’s boxers were off and Pete simply _swallowed_ his cock down. Patrick’s back arched off the bed with a muffled _holyfuckPete._ He didn’t say anything else, breath coming out in open-mouthed gasps as Pete swirled his tongue and bobbed his head. The silence grew in the room, and he realized Patrick was back in the mode of _being quiet._ He was breathing heavy, air whooshing out through his opened mouth, something he had started to do when he had to suddenly go from _loud_ to _don’t wake the baby._ Pulling off with a smile, Pete looked up at him with a glint in his eye.

 

“Let me hear you, babe. You’re not going to wake anyone up.” Patrick’s eyes flashed down to him, a whisper of sadness in them at the reminder that Devlin wasn’t there, but it was quickly gone as his eyes rolled back in his head and then squinted shut as Pete sucked him down again. 

 

“Shit, Pete, shit shit shit.” Patrick gasped out and Pete moved off to mouth at his balls, tongue darting out to caress the soft skin there.

 

“Hand me the lube, in the dresser.” Patrick groaned as he went back to his championship-level blow job, arm flung out desperately searching blindly for the lube in the drawer. Mentally smiling at the small, frustrated noises Patrick was making, Pete sucked and licked with abandon as Patrick finally grabbed the lube and nearly threw it on the bed. Not breaking his current pursuit, Pete slicked up his fingers and eased a single one inside him, and he moaned around his cock at the way Patrick clenched around him. It had been a while—their sex lives had definitely quieted down a bit since becoming parents. Lately it had been a dream come true to just get to sleep for more than two hours _with_ Patrick in _their_ bed. He didn’t mind, though, Devlin was worth it and right now, he had time to get his husband ready, to make it _good_. 

 

Judging by the high-pitched whines falling from Patrick a few minutes later, he would say he was definitely ready. He had eased off on his blow-job, keeping Patrick back from the edge. Now he was looking down at him with huge blue eyes that glinted with need and hunger, and it made Pete’s heart warm to see the sadness banished. 

 

“You ready babe?” 

 

Patrick nodded, biting his lip between his teeth for a moment, his chest rising and falling quickly as arousal painted his cheeks pink and his chest flushed. Pete clambered up, lining himself up and pushing inside slowly. His eyes never left his husband’s face as he moved, watching as his eyes fell closed and his mouth fell open into a perfect _O._ His head fell back into the pillows and his back arched up, seeking contact, friction, _anything_ and a truly poetic moan tumbled from his working throat.

 

“God, Pete, come on, please, do it, you said you’d make me— _“_ He broke off with a hiss that turned into a deep moan as Pete pulled out halfway and slid back in. A few more experimental thrusts and Pete found the angle that made Patrick shout out his name and sent him scrabbling at him, pulling Pete down and desperately biting down on his shoulder. Pete hissed as Patrick sucked what was sure to be an absolutely _artistic_ bruise and he wrapped his arms around his husband, holding him close and rocking against him. His cock was buried inside Patrick, and his husband's was trapped between their bodies. Pete pushed his body, moving in and out rhythmically, never letting Patrick go, keeping him close, keeping him _loved._ He moved his head and nestled his lips next to his shuddering husband’s ear, whispering low and intimate.

“You’re the best, you know that?”— _Thrust—“_ You’re the best father in the world, the best husband.”— _Thrust_ —“You’re so gorgeous, so kind, so perfect.”— _Thrust—_ “I love you, I love you so much.— _Thrust—_ “‘I’m the luckiest guy in the world, you know that? Because I have _you.”_

 

During his soliloquy, Patrick had been gasping against him, moaning and trembling but silent. But at his final testament, his eyes flew open and Pete was surprised to see a few tears leaking from the corners. “ _God,_ I love you.” He breathed and pulled him down, sealing their mouths together in a desperate kiss that seemed to echo back in touch and taste and breaths what Pete had been trying to say with his words. Then Pete decided he wanted to make Patrick come _now,_ he wanted to see him shake apart and glow with pleasure _right the fuck now._ He needed to give him that, to make him feel that blinding wave of perfection and safety and completion. Speeding up, he pounded against him, stroking his prostate and pulling him in tightly—he felt like they were melting together, merging and joining. 

 

Patrick whimpered against his mouth, and Pete knew he was close. He knew it from the way his breath huffed out, from the way his cock was hard and weeping between them, from the way his hands were opening and closing against his back rhythmically, like he was trying to dig out his ribs from soft loam. Pete pulled back just enough so he could see Patrick’s face, his eyes squeezed shut and his throat working as he gasped and shuddered and Pete was overwhelmed. This was _his_ life, this was _his_ husband that he got to make feel like this.

 

“I love you forever.” He murmured and Patrick’s eyes shot open, his lower lip caught between his teeth as his blue gaze flashed up to meet Pete’s. “I love you.” He whispered again, feeling like a broken record and not caring, because it was the only song he ever wanted to sing for the rest of his life. 

  
“ _Pete_.” Patrick’s eyes slammed shut and he curled up into Pete, arms tightening like a vise around him as he came with a long, high cry. 

 

“So gorgeous.” He gasped, coming undone at the sight of Patrick unravelling beneath him, groaning out as he fell into his own orgasm—surrounded by his love, his world, his best friend.

 

He tumbled down, barely missing falling on top of Patrick, and fell to the side, pulling out and making them both gasp. He pulled his shuddering husband into his arms, sticky and sweaty and sated, Patrick’s arms snaking around him and pulling him closer. They lay there for a long time, breathing coming back to normal and spirits floating back to their own bodies.

 

“Thank you.” Patrick mumbled against his chest, sounding sleepy and content, and Pete smiled as he pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through, him being gone today, but you…” He trailed off and his hands tightened just a bit in their grip. “You always know what I need.” 

 

Humming an assent, he ran his fingers through Patrick’s hair, glinting like sweat-slicked gold. “I try.” Pulling away, Pete pressed another kiss to those kissable, kissable lips just because he needed to, because he _had_ to one more time. Patrick’s eyes were wide and blue and content when he pulled away. Relaxed. It made Pete’s heart warm. “Come on. We’ve got time for a quick shower and then it’s time to go get our baby. You made it through your first day of daycare, Papa.” 

 

Patrick’s eyes lit up as he looked at the clock on their nightstand, and his lips stretched in a wide smile as he realized his son was a shower and a ten minute car-drive away. He looked back at Pete and grinned. 

 

“Best end to lunch ever.” 


End file.
